


Fictober 2020

by HardingHightown



Category: Divinity: Original Sin (Video Games), Dragon Age (Video Games), Mass Effect - All Media Types, Pillars of Eternity, Tyranny (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 14,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27312067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardingHightown/pseuds/HardingHightown
Summary: A collection of fics from Fictober 2020. Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Pillars of Eternity and Divinity Original Sin 2, with a few originals. Title is prompt name.
Relationships: Aeducan/Alistair (Dragon Age), Aloth Corfiser/The Watcher, Ariane/Finn (Dragon Age), Bianca Davri/Varric Tethras, Fane/Female Godwoken (Divinity: Original Sin), Female Hawke/Merrill, Female Lavellan/Solas, Ifan ben-Mezd/Male Godwoken, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Javik/Female Shepard (Mass Effect), Serafen/The Watcher
Comments: 9
Kudos: 12





	1. “no, come back!” - Dragon Age, Aeducan

##  _“no, come back!”_

> Dragon age origins, genfic, Aeducan, death mention

They told her the fade was a place for dreams, and when she asked them what it meant to dream they all had different answers for her. Alistair said that it was the connection to the realm of the maker, the font from which he created all things. Morrigan described it as the place of wild magic, the realm of Older Gods than the chantry knew.

Sten told her that dreams were just a collection of thoughts muddled in the mind, and that come morning they should be discarded like apple cores in dirt.

The archdemon came to her in a nightmare, and since then she had been desperate to cast the vision of those eyes meeting hers into mud. It remained in the corner of her mind, a dark spot clouding her judgement. She had asked Zevran what it meant over the fire one night when she could not sleep. He had told her that it was the great burden of being connected to the world, the great burden of any choice, any duty. That bad dreams would come, and bad dreams would stay, and others could reach to you through the wildness of the fade in this life and the next.

It made her think of the peace her brother and father and mother must have felt to return to the stone, like the trickle of a stream into the cracks and crevices and then into nothing, just a fleck of moisture on the unending stretch of the world, free from the pettiness of that life they had left behind. She thought of them all melding together in a peaceful love for another, the energies they had spent fighting and clawing through the machinery of Orzammar instead enriching the very land those feet stood on. Some days she would remove her boots and stand on the rock, willing to feel their pull keeping her from feeling like she would fall into the sky. She wondered if the dreams meant that the Grey Wardens had taken another thing from her; whether the connection to the archdemon and the realm of the dreamers would keep her from returning to the embrace of her ancestors. Whether she was even a dwarf at all anymore.

Then she started to see them.

When the archdemon came to her mind she saw the shadows of her father blending with the shadows of Trian, both with weapons aloft and fire in their soul. They glowed a lyrium blue and shifted in and out of focus, in and out of form, sometimes alone and sometimes with the voice of a thousand thousand singing over the cacophony of the demon’s roar. She felt a surging of power from the depths of the earth, a rumbling tremor that felt like it might split the ground into shattered spikes, and the beating heart of something far beyond the form of a dragon, far beyond what any of them could imagine, its song sweeter than anything she had ever heard. She could see them melt into the sound, and when she called for them to stay they could not listen.

The morning brought a heavy absence in her heart, a bright sky above, and a pull in her heart back to the ground beneath.


	2. “that’s the easy part” - Dragon Age, Lavellan and Iron Bull

## “that’s the easy part”

> Dragon Age, Solavellan (kind of), Iron Bull, no major warnings though spoilers for post-game

The Iron Bull stayed with her for the months after they had left the Winter Palace. She had thought he would be rushing to see Dorian again, cow-eyed as he was for his pretty love, but he was certain that with the revelations of the council that the Chargers were needed by his boss’ side, at least for a while. She was glad for the company if nothing else. With Dorian in Tevinter, The chantry folk back arguing with Divine Victoria over her radical plans, and everybody else scattered back into whatever lives they had carved before or promises they had made along the way she was grateful for his counsel. She just hadn’t realised until this day why he was so adamant that he was needed.

Today he had asked her to join him early in the morning in the little corner of the castle he had carved out as his own. She had been only too happy to leave her own room, the size of it strangely crushing as she started the work of packing away the things that she would take away from her. Skyhold wasn’t safe, that much was clear. The court was dispersing, the servants sent far away, but still there seemed to be a lingering malevolence that coiled its way through the bricks, and packing without the use of her left hand proved more frustrating than she would ever admit.

When she knocked to enter and Bull let her in, she was not expecting to see him as she did. Nakedness was not as much of a surprise to her as the lack of his eyepatch, the curve of the muscle on his leg without his brace. How much softer the lines of him looked.

“Glad you made it boss.”

“Bull.”

“Usually I can do this on my own but I woke up stiff.” He laughed softly at the suggestion then clarified. “Sometimes the cold gets into my bones after a hard train. You know how it is. Getting older.”

“You’re welcome to a room with a roof, Bull. You always were.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

As she entered she could see a number of small packs laid out, nothing more than one Charger could wear on a back, and there against the broken mirror poised recklessly in the corner of the room was his brace.

“I got this design in Ferelden,” he explained, his eyes following hers as he indicated for her to bring it over. “Ferelden’s don’t know shit about making things look pretty, but they cast good light metal that doesn’t draw an enemy eye.”

She went to grab it with her left hand. She kept doing it, over and over again. The left hand was the hand in which her bow rested, the hand which held her children’s hands as they walked to the river and scooped up her grandchildren under her arm. The right hand was for the for quick work, grabbing arrows, cutting with a knife. She felt… it felt…

“Dagna has been working on devices for you. I’ve seen her work, and it’s good. Real good. Better than anything I had to cobble together in the early days. Why won’t you give it a chance?”

His voice cut through a silence that she realised must have settled for some time. She shook her head, grabbed the brace with an unsteady hand and threw it to him.

“You’re still a boy, Bull. When you get older you realise sometimes you’ve reached the end of your learning. I am who I am. There’s no point learning new.”

“You sell yourself short, boss,” he replied as he worked, arms strained with the pressure of winching his brace taught against his skin. “I remember what my reports about you used to say. Stubborn. Won’t speak to the humans unless they speak to her. Keeps away from others.”

“Still sharing Qunari secrets?”

“Seems less of an issue than ever now.”

“Well. If you want to be a leader, be a bridge. I didn’t ask for it, but I’ve seen enough closed leaders to know it doesn’t end well for anybody. A kindness can gain as much as an arrow.”

“So why can’t you extend that kindness to yourself?”

She had nothing to say to that. So he didn’t force her to speak. Instead he indicated for her to hold the metal in place as he twisted the final clasps to hold it tight with a hand missing fingers. She found her hand lingering on the metal, seeing how the flesh had warped to fit the metal and not the other way around. It fit like a rope swallowed by a growing tree.

“And you get used to it?” she found herself whispering.

“The things you add, that’s the easy part.” he replied. “The part that’s hard? What you’ve lost to get there. And that’s not always physical. Losing my eye hurt way less than realising that some idiot was willing to take it over something so stupid.”

“Folk will always find a cause for violence.”

“I don’t think it’s even that simple.”

He grabbed what passed as his clothes and finished dressing himself, reaching for his shoulder harness last. “You know this? This wasn’t even a real injury. Just kept getting hit in the same place enough and your body anticipates the hurt, you know?”

“I do.”

She felt the breath leave her body as she sat on the broken bed next to him, the weight of what was missing suddenly knocking the breath from her. She felt his arm move around her, loose buckles sweeping over her shoulder as he pulled her head to his shoulder.

“It’s time to leave this place, Gennol. But it’s not the end of it. Just a new adjustment, that’s all.”

“You’re right.”


	3. “you did this?” - Pillars of Eternity: Deadfire, Watcher/Serafen

## “You did this?”

> _Pillars of Eternity, Watcher/Serafen, mild sexual references_

She had expected something from the words in front of her. To be more blue to begin with; given his charming and filthy tongue she half expected a lewd limerick. Shorter, for certain. Serafen liked a biting word that tripped off the tongue. Verbose, but precise in meaning even through his thick affectation. 

“You did this, ac?”

She had expected something from the words she convinced Siri to share with her over a full tankard swapping war stories. This was not it. This was not some quick scribe. This took time to make look right, to write the words in an ink that would stay deep in the paper. There were no mistakes. This was not the first version. This took _care_.

“Aye cap. Those be my words, shan’t deny it.”

She nodded, not taking her eyes from the pages in front of her. She poured over one phrase in particular, one that described the beauty of her eyes. She remembered, they were indeed beautiful. He described them as sparkling as the shores of untouched isles, as valuable as any treasure in the Deadfire.

_Why did you not write poetry for me?_

She knew he didn’t love Siri, that wasn’t it - she knew from the vision he let her see the night they first met her. She knew he did it to give her something, a distraction from _la via vrudo_. She remembered that vision and held it as a barrier from his mind teasing at the edges of hers. She knew he wouldn’t want her to ask the question, and he certainly did not deserve to pull it from her own mind:

_Did you not think I needed it too?_

“It is scruffy work, but has heart,” she heard herself say, her voice stronger than perhaps she had intended. “Messy, though. You lose tense here, you see? Your _penta,_ the rhythm of it, you keep changing your mind and changing your mind. You know the ocean well, you left her to return to it. You should find it easier to find rhythm like the ocean than it is in this. You would do well to study love more closely if you want to make an imitation of it again. Or maybe you don’t feel the need to anymore, _aimico_.”

His ear twitched slightly as she dropped the paper at his feet and left.


	4. “that didn’t stop you before” - Dragon Age, Cullen and Samson

## “that didn’t stop you before”

> _Dragon Age Inquisition, Cullen and Samson, drug references_

He hadn’t much minded the snow at first. Honnleath would get a spatter of it around the coldest months, enough to settle on the village square but nothing compared to the relentless ice of the mountains. Now however, it felt like it was sitting in his bones, seeping into the crevices of his joints and slowing his mind. Or maybe that was the lack of lyrium.

He knew it would be hard. He had seen better men than he fit in their cots from withdrawal, their skin rubbed raw from itching and their eyes so red they looked like blood. He had been checking the mirror regularly and could see it in his eyes, no matter how much he balled his fists in his gloves to keep them from his face. His skin was translucent, his eyes were red, and they would all know soon enough.

He found himself taking more time visiting Samson in his quarters.

The Inquisitor had said there was no point keeping him in a cell, to instead put him to work and give him a more comfortable (though guarded) room in with the other labourers who maintained the walls. Samson had worked hard with what his body would allow, but it was clear that now his body, ravaged as it was by the red, was in no state to leave this room.

Most days he said nothing, replacing the guard and sitting doing nothing. Some days he took a book and, on a day when Samson was incapable of much more than lying on his bed staring at the gaps in the ceiling, he started to read to him. Some days he would protest. Most days he could not find the words to. Today he was lucid enough, and Cullen found himself saying:

“You know you’re near the end, don’t you?”

A wracking cough came from the bundle of old sheets on the bed.

“Charming company as ever, Cullen.”

“I just think you should be prepared, that is all. Perhaps it is time to-”

“If you suggest prayer-”

“I think it might help.”

“Your type feel the need to absolve yourselves. I know what I’ve done.”

A silence settled on them for a while. Cullen felt his hand helplessly rapping against the book he grasped. 

“Does it hurt to be off it?” he blurted out, flexing his hand and placing the book on the ground by his boot. “Now you’re off the red, does it-”

“I’m not off it. It’s bloody growing in me, Cullen. Dagna didn’t tell you to keep a distance because my breath stinks.”

“I did not realise it would feel the same as taking it.”

“More to the point, how are you doing off it? Don’t try and tell me you’re not, I’ve seen a hundred men and women like you. Part of me wondered if you came to visit me because you could smell the red in my veins.”

“I don’t… don’t be preposterous! I am here because…”

“… Because? Oh you best believe I want to hear this one.”

“Because I… I just don’t know if I am capable of taking this command like this,” he said quietly, shocked at how easy it was to confess this to his enemy. But Samson likely wouldn’t even remember this, and even if he did nobody would believe they spoke so candidly. “I do not know if I am the right man for this without the powers that it gives me. I don’t know if I’m any better for choosing this than you were for-”

“That didn’t stop you before,” came the gruff answer as Samson struggled to sit upright. “You were a wet boy with a head full of demons and thought nothing of letting them ravage your command, your charges. So maybe asking yourself if you are is the best thing you’ve done in your poxy command, did you think of that?”

He let that hang over them for a moment. Cullen knew the face Samson would have on him after that. Smug, smiling, like a peasant that had skewered a rat to eat.

When he looked up, Samson’s eyes were wet with tears. He wiped them quickly and spat on the floor, pulling the blankets up higher and lying back on his straw pillow.

“Now pick up your book, Rutherford. I want another chapter before dark.”


	5. “unacceptable, try again” - Dragon Age, Lavellan

## “Unacceptable, try again”

> _Dragon age, Clan Lavellan, gen fic_

The younger hunters would always show themselves for who they were before she even met them. There would be those who would cower so much they would trade great treasures to not be apprenticed to her before she’d said a word to them. There were those that bragged about being chosen as if there were some great scheme in how they were chosen, who often failed even those most basic task. Her favourites were the quiet ones that watched closely. Those who listened for the instruction in the silences. Those would be the best of the hunters.

“Unacceptable. Try again.”

Stripped of their bows, they were given the instruction to find a different way to fall their prey. Brenorn, the most confident of her charges, had lead a small group of them in creating passable darts from sharp stone and their twine, but they lacked the velocity needed. A few tried axes, impressive to strike fear, pointless for a quick kill. A few more hid with spears trained ahead, but knew too little of the limitations of their bodies in being able to move close enough to throw them.

Only one of them had taken herself away from the others. Corsen, smaller than the others, Corsen who had not spoken these past years after being caught in a human trap and almost losing her leg, had taken herself away and by the looks of her arms dug a hole with her bare hands in the soft soil that she had hidden with light twigs and leaves. She kept her eyes away as she was approached, even as Gennol knelt beside her to look more closely.

“This is good work, Da’len. The most wise of us take what has hurt us and make it part of our strength. You will be a fine hunter, and you’ll run with me.”

She noticed a soft smile flutter over Corsen’s face.


	6. “that was impressive” - Tyranny

## “That was impressive”

He had read of more than he had seen, such was the life of a sage, but nothing he had read could have prepared him for this moment. A part of him still felt the human urge to run, but he was stuck to the spot, entranced by the most exquisite spectacle he had ever encountered.

Before they began travelling together he had speculated on the reason that the Fatebinder was known as Greysalda The Fair, but mere weeks in her company made it clear that it was not for the consistency and clarity of her judgements. Her tall strong form was objectively handsome, aided by her long peppered hair and wide eyes, her strong arms and thighs painted with tattoos which she showed off through flowing robes. The breaking of the edict tore her body from the ground, her whole being thrust to the sky with the power of her overlord’s will. Her hair, usually neatly pinned and tucked behind her ears, flew from her face as light almost blinded him, the sound of the command breaking from her skin like a wave across them all.

Then she dropped to the ground, falling to her knees, her skin still luminous, her body ravaged by the power that had coursed through her, and still she found the strength and grace to pull herself to her feet by her staff. Where she stood, she was magnificent.

“That was impressive, Fatebinder.”

Her grey eyes cut through him as her gaze turned, slow and mechanical as the magic still lingered in the corners.

“I am but an instrument of Kyros’ will. Nothing more.”


	7. “yes I did, what about it?” - Dragon Age Hawke and Varric

## “Yes I did, what about it?”

> Dragon Age, Hawke and Varric, gen

“And you told Cassandra this?”

“Yes I did. What about it?”

“And she believed you?”

“Hey. All of it’s true, in some fashion.”

Sitting with Varric should have felt like a relief, a happy window back into the past, but the tavern in Skyhold felt like an artifice, a construction for people to relax in to losen their tongues. Leliana was far colder than the last time they had met, and it seemed like the kind of thing she would do. Create the artifice of a place to relax, and let people do her work for her.

“True in some fashion isn’t going to go down well if she finds out.”

“And how would she find out exactly? I doubt you want her knowing different.”

“Let’s not discuss it further.”

She was hot under the cloak Varric insisted she wear, and felt hotter by the second. There were new volunteers from the marches every day, he told her, plus a fair few Ferelden soldiers that might be able to place her from the Blight.

“I was hoping we could talk more,” he replied, hailing the barkeep for more to drink. “It’s been too long since we were in a room together.”

“That we can agree on. Being important takes you everywhere except the places you want to be, it seems.”

“Isn’t that true.”

“But do you need to be here still? If I’m here, and Alistair too, surely you’ve given them all the information they need. Why not return to Kirkwall? I’m sure Aveline is just dying to have you back.”

“Oh, we speak regularly. She’s positively begging me.” He laughed, not wanting to let a silence settle. “You know how it is though. Who wants to only know part of the story?”

“Those who know what’s coming next, that’s who.”


	8. “I’m not doing that again” - Dragon Age, Hawke/Merrill

## “I’m not doing that again”

> _Dragon Age, Hawke/Merrill_

“If you go, you have to promise you’ll come back.”

Her eyes were fixed down to her hands, which ran worried lines over each other as she sat on the end of the bed. Charity had seen her do it a thousand times before, but it looked this time like she might wear the flesh right off.

“You know I’m not planning to stay.”

“That’s not the same and you know it. You know what I mean.”

Merrill’s eyes finally met hers, the tears welling up as she blinked to keep them from falling.

“Hawke, you know. You’ve done a good job of it so far but I was at your side then, I could protect you.”

“And I you.”

“I know you looked out for me when you could but…When we were in Kirkwall I was always a step behind you. I know you wouldn’t let anything happen to me but all I could think about was keeping you safe. All I was focused on was keeping you safe because you are my love and you are my _family_.”

“Varric assures me that the Inquisitor will keep me safe. She’s Dalish too, you might know her-”

“You’re going into another country on your own. What if it’s a trap? What if Cullen is finally going to trap you and-”

“And what? Send me to a circle? I think he’d be hard pressed-”

“I can’t lose you, Hawke. I can’t. I won’t. I’m not doing that again, I just can’t…”

She thought that Merrill might break into tears, but she did not. Her voice trailed into nothing, her face still, single long tears stretching down her face.

She sat next to her, holding on to her hand in the silence. She would not make any promises that she might not be able to keep.


	9. “will you look at this?” - Dragon Age, Finn/Ariane

## “Will you look at this?”

> _Dragon Age, Finn/Ariane_

“This would be much easier if we had an actual library, you know. What I wouldn’t give for a good reference system right about now. Even if it were Anderfel system. Actually, I take that back. Scraps coughed up by a mabari is a better way to archive than that.”

Finn brushed his hand on his trousers, then upon noticing the patch of white on the dark brown fabric proceeded to scrub at it with the very hand he had wiped off before.

“If it were easy, Morrigan would not have contacted us,” Ariane replied from half way up the tree.

“I’m still surprised you didn’t burn the letter on the spot.”

“It was tempting, but the ask was more tempting.”

Ariane reached into another deep hole carved in the thickest part of the trunk, her hand meeting only mulch. With no magical wards left, the parchments were as susceptible to the elements as anything else.

“I’m having no luck,“ she called behind her shoulder to him, pulling her arm from the gap and stifling a smile as he turned a funny colour at the state of it. “There must be something we’re missing. Or some way of seeing it differently.”

“Or maybe we’re just too late by a century or two,” he replied, pulling out a pristine handkerchief from his pack and, after wiping down himself of course, offering it to her as her feet found the ground. “There will be other threads to pull, don’t worry.”

“And in the meanwhile, all of this is lost. Because what? Some Shemlen killed the people who were guarding it and didn’t think to preserve it? Didn’t even think to check?”

Finn leaned into her, holding on to her hand. The hand, she noted with a smile, that was dirty.

“I know. And I’m sorry. That was insensitive. I’m an idiot sometimes. Still got half my senses buried in the tower.”

“It’s all right.”

“It’s not.”

He pulled her into a deep hug, one that he wouldn’t have dared to in their first year of travel together. She held that sweet sheltered boy as a happy memory, but the unexpected comfort of the man her mate had become was a treasure she would never trade. She let herself relax into his arms, closing her eyes and breathing in his neck.

Only for him to promptly knock her off her feet as he barged past her.

She turned to look and saw him trying, and failing, to climb the other side of the tree, the side that had no bearings, his feet slipping off old moss and dirtying his shoes. His face was lit up like a child on a feast day.

“Ariane look! Will you look at this? Look!” 

He pointed, running back to grab her hands. “Up at the top. Under that patch of moss. There’s another ward! The one you found is just…”

“… it was a distraction.”

“See? Your people always know how to preserve their knowledge from us idiot Shemlen.”

“But not from the _clever_ idiots, clearly,” she replied, kissing him softly before seeking out another route to climb. 


	10. “all I ever wanted” - Dragon Age, Varric/Bianca

## “All I ever wanted”

> _Dragon Age, Bianca Davri/Varric Tethras, no major warnings past that_

“You can come out now, Bianca. I know where you’re hiding. The guards are gone now.”

She wasn’t surprised that he knew. The man could always guess her moves before anybody else could. “Am I losing my touch?”

“You? Never. You knew the best place to hide from guards looking down at a dwarf is _up_.”

She turned on the beam, allowing herself to drop softly to the floor. “I know you too well, I guess.”

“I guess you do.”

It wasn’t exactly the sight she thought she’d find when she returned to Kirkwall. Sat at a desk, tiny round reading spectacles on the end of his nose. A slight streak of grey starting at his temple.

“You’re looking old, Varric.”

“Charming,” he laughed, taking the spectacles from his nose and squinting at her. “Ah, shit. Here’s me hoping I can say the same to you, but-”

“A charmed life is good for the skin, I hear.”

“Sitting in a dark room with paperwork coming out of your ass sure isn’t.”

She pulled herself up to sit on the desk, finally looking more closely at him. The grey was peppered through his blonde hair and he had deep worry lines forming across his forehead. His eyes were bloodshot, not from drinking too much anymore, but from lack of sleep. He shifted, obviously uncomfortable with her gaze.

“What do you want, Bianca?”

“Does it always have to be about wanting something?”

“With you? Almost certainly.” He stood and moved to the front of the desk, pulling himself up to sit by her. “So why don’t we skip ahead.”

“What If I don’t want to skip ahead?”

“Well, I’m sure the guards would love to be introduced. And if you meet them, I’m sure word would get out, and that won’t do at all for my marriage proposals-”

“Plural?”

“Plural. You wouldn’t think a human title would do much for the Kalna’s, but I guess the pickings are slim these days.”

“Well I head Meitri Meino is a great pick. If you can stand the nosebleeds.”

He smiled slightly at her, and she wished she could invent a way to capture that forever, just the way she saw it then.

“Bianca. Why are you here?”

She breathed deeply. “Well… for once, you’re wrong about me. I’m not here to ask for anything.”

“You know I don’t believe that.”

“Well, it’s true.” She gently pushed on his shoulder, immediately regretting the touch. His arm was still strong under that stuffy shirt, and it made her wish she could be more reckless. From the look in his eye, he felt it too, so she pushed herself from the desk and continued:

“House Aeducan has declared.”

When she looked back at him, his mouth was agape.

“Shit. Wait. When?”

“Five weeks ago. Paragon Aeducan made the motion herself.”

“But she hates surfacers. And she’s trying to hide that she’s still a surfacer. Why would she?”

“She needed a favour. An easy one too, not anything I wouldn’t have done for the Hero of Ferelden anyway. I thought she’d forget about it, but she proposed that having me in a position where I could have influence with the Ambassadoria is a good thing, and I guess there were enough people who agreed. It passed by two votes.”

“Bianca-”

“I think she’s angling for her nephew to be Pyral’s heir, so it’s probably to do with that-”

“Bianca. That’s amazing. Sorry, _Paragon_ Bianca.”

A soft silence settled between them.

“I know,” she said finally, her eyes welling up with tears. “It’s all I ever wanted.”

The moment she said it, she regretted it. His smile faltered, just for a second before he found it again, but she knew him well enough to know she might as well have shot him with his crossbow.

“Varric, you know what I-”

“I know, I know. You don’t need to worry. It just… it means this was worth it. All of this. Doesn’t it.”

She nodded, letting the tears fall as she wiped them away. “Yeah. I think maybe it does.”


	11. “I told you so” - Dragon Age, Varric and Isabela

## “I told you so”

> _Dragon Age, Isabela and Varric_

“He’s here for you. No doubt.”

“Soft-faced boy with saucer eyes? Come on Rivaini, you know why he’s here.”

“I’m telling you! I know men. I know their desires. And that boy can’t stop thinking about-”

“Here we go-”

“That luscious, thick rug of chest hair,” she purred as Varric leaned away from her misjudged attempt to finger it.

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yes. Drunk _and_ right. Those two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Speaking of exclusive, aren’t you and Hawke-”

“Very good friends having a good time? Why certainly. Not that it matters though, since he’s here for you.”

“Next drink is on me if you’re right.”

“And if you are? Not that you are…”

“You give me three details about Hawke for my book.”

She chuckled. “Scandalous. I accept. Oh, hush up, here he comes. Puff out your chest a little.”

The boy walked over with his hat clasped in his hands so tightly he could have almost ripped it, and settled between them, ordering an ale from the barkeep and then turning.

“I… ah… can I… Can I get you something as well? If you like. If you’re… ah…”

Varric saw Isabela lean over behind the young boy’s back and mouth _“I told you so.”_


	12. “watch me” - Dragon Age, Lavellan/Solas

## “watch me”

> _Dragon age, Solavellan free form_

I see you there in the corners of this dream, fanged teeth dripping not with blood, with something else that burns away the ground beneath your feet as you prowl. I see you in the corners of this dream and others. I cannot sleep without the feeling of your eyes on me; I remember when the feeling of it made me skin prick with excitement. Now it is fear.

I see you there in the corners of this dream and others. For two years I could not sleep for want of the feeling of your eyes on me; now they are a constant. Every night I feel you there.

When I wake my breath is heavy, my throat raw as if I have been calling in my sleep. When I go through my day, hands rest gently on my shoulder and tell me I look tired. That I look like I need rest, that I should go and try, that they need me rested for what is to come.

I know I will never rest again until I am put in the grave. Watch me.

I know I will never breathe until we are face to face again, as you watch me.

I know I will never feel peace until we are both returned to the fade. Watch me.

Watch me as much as you like. Watch me adapt. Watch me grow. Watch my bones turn to iron and my skin to armour, watch my heart grow vines in my body, ropes of vengeance that keep my tired, heavy limbs moving. Watch me learn how to hunt without a bow. Watch me ready to take your throat with my teeth, Fen’Harel.

Stalk me through my dreams if you must. When the dawn comes, I will turn to face you.


	13. “I missed this” - Dragon Age, Hawke and Carver

## “I missed this”

> _Dragon age, Carver and Hawke_

He didn’t know why his stomach felt like it was in knots. It could have been the dubiously lukewarm stew with fatty grey meat that Cottis had slopped into his rations bowl, but he was pretty convinced he knew why. Ravens had arrived days before. Alistair was dead, and his companion was returning in his stead.

When Carver had introduced Alistair to the idea of meeting up with his sister, he hadn’t even contacted her directly. Silly as it was, he was more in contact with Merrill than he was Charity. At first he’d kept in touch in some ridiculous attempt to woo her away, prove that he was better than his sister for her, but over time he had grown to cherish her in a completely different light. Speaking to Merrill was easy, and he knew that she would do anything for her beloved brother. His own sister, on the other hand…

The horn had been sounded. A horse was approaching the gates with a lone rider with a staff on their back. Certainly her. And now, as he was awaiting the gates to rise, he wished he had scrubbed up his boots to shine a little cleaner.

The hooded figure dismounted, pushing down her hood to reveal herself. She was going grey, he noted, trying to keep the smile from the corner of his mouth. She greeted the commanders first, handing them a letter that had no doubt come from Alistair and then another, larger set of documents that must have been from the Inquisition. Then finally, she bowed and took her leave, striding over to him.

She stretched out her hand for him to shake.

“Really? No sight of you for years and you offer a hand?”

“I didn’t want to get your armour dirty. Looks like you’ve been up all night polishing it.”

She took her hand to his face instead, pinching his cheek roughly. “Andraste’s arse, Carver. Are they even feeding you?”

“It’s hungry work, saving the world and all.”

“Always knew you’d be the hero, little brother.”

“Oh, did you?”

“Never doubted it. You practically wrote your own heroic ballads for the girls to sing in Lothering. You were made for it.”

“And you?”

“Just somebody who got lucky. Yet again.”

“Alistair was a good man.”

“He was.”

He reached out to her and squeezed her arm. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve missed this.”

Her eyes feigned shock. “You’ve missed this? Why, I need to work on my material then. The Carver I knew would never admit to such a thing.”

“Hero, remember? All grown up. Now shut up, and let me show you around. Welcome to Weisshaupt.”


	14. “you better leave now” - Pillars of Eternity: Deadire, Xoti

## “You better leave now”

> _Pillars of Eternity, Xoti, references to violence._

“We don’t mean you no disrespect,” the barkeeper said to her, his tone notwithstanding. “I know your folk have an accord elsewhere, but we don’t want any of your kind making trouble.”

“My kind?” she asked sweetly, holding her lantern ever so slightly closer to his face and watching him shrink.

“Not like… The Eothasians ain’t welcome here. Been that way since before what happened in the Deadfire. We ain’t looking for trouble.”

“Gaun comes for us all in the end. What are you afraid of?”

“Talk like that for one. Just take your lantern and go, and we won’t have any trouble.”

She could feel it pulse in her again. The _need_. The lantern swelled with the life of those who had come before, and they wanted more to join them.

“Are you happy in your life, barkeep?” she asked, settling the lantern in front of him and watching his face as it glowed brighter. “Is this all that you think you can give the world? A great new dawn is coming for all of us, and we need people to fallow the fields before the spring. We need to make sure we’re ready. Are you ready for the new light?”

“You… you better leave now.” She could see a new fear settle in his eyes. Yes. Yes, this was what she needed. This was what Gaun needed. She could feel her hands itching at the wood of her sickle as she watched him, fed off his fear. This was what Gaun needed. This was what _Eora_ needed, they’d all see that soon enough.

“I don’t think I better. I think we’re just getting acquainted. Don’t be shy. Look deeper in to the light, and tell me what you see.”


	15. “not interested, thank you” - Divinity Original Sin 2, Ifan/M!Godwoken

## “not interested, thank you”

> _Divinity Original Sin 2, Ifan Ben-Mezd/Godwoken_

The eyes were on him in this tavern, like they often were. It was always a fun game to decide what was drawing their gaze - was it notoriety, had he fallen foul of one of the regulars, or was it something simpler, more primal. He was aware of the effect he had on human women in particular, something about the way he smelt to them seemingly turned their senses about their heads. He often wondered why that was. Even when he was trying to keep his head down, they seemed to find a way.

The group at the end of the bar kept their eyes on him. His own scanned the room to find him.

He would give anything to understand the secrets of his attractiveness, he realised with a flush of embarrassment. Not to draw in more of them, but to understand why, so he might work out why he could not draw the eye of his friend. He was comfortable calling the Lizard “friend”, it was allowed between them, but more and more he wanted to reach to him more than the camaraderie between them allowed. The smell of him was… different. Unlike anything he had ever smelled before. At every trader they stopped at he tried to find what scent he was adorning himself with, but he couldn’t find anything that evoked that exact deep feeling that he fought whenever they got too close. When he had given Ifan the gloves he had worn to trade away, he had squirrelled them away for himself, holding them close to his person in the rare times they were truly separate.

He had never kept trinkets before.

The smallest of the women left her group and sidled up to him. “Care to buy a girl a drink, handsome?” she purred at him, her touch on his arm irritatingly familiar.

“Not interested, thank you.”

“Oh, well that’s a shame.”

He felt her other hand lower… gripped around a dagger she held right by the main bleeder in his leg.

“My boss would like for us to get better acquainted. Better to do it quietly.”

Before he could even reply, a burst of light filled the room as the Godwoken stood up, head almost hitting the ceiling, blinding the rest of the room with radiant light.

Turned out the only thing he needed to do to get his attention was have his life threatened. Fair trade, all in all.


	16. “I never wanted anything else” - Dragon Age, Aeducan/Alistair

## “I never wanted anything else”

Dragon Age, Aeducan/Alistair, references to gore

The Assembly rarely slept, but there was a deathly silence after the coronation. The remaining loyal to King Harrowmont did their best to clean the halls, but she could still see the blood in the stone when she looked below her feet. She wondered if they even tried to wash it away. Perhaps it was better as a warning. A memory away from the shaparate.

She moved through the centre of the great hall, finding the spot where she took her brother’s head. There was a chip in the stone where her great axe hit, and the crevice had filled with blood. She wondered how long that blood would stay liquid in there before it dried to stain the stone.

“King Harrowmont is expecting us for dinner, my love.”

Alistair stood at the entrance waiting for her. He looked so out of place here, and truthfully it made her feel slightly sick. He was of the surface, and her life there, and that was fine and well, but to see him here in the assembly made her hands itch. She could see the resemblance to Cailan so clearly now. He had the bearing of a king, despite himself.

“Pyral knows me well enough. If I were on time I’m sure he’d worry.”

“I’m sure he does, my dear, but we’re not representing ourselves anymore.”

Her hand tightened. The crack of blood seemed to shift on the floor. He was right, of course he was right, but her temples burned hot and she couldn’t breathe in her armour. She knew coming back here would be hard, she knew it would be awful, but she didn’t anticipate feeling like she had made the wrong choice.

“Would Bhelen have invited us to dine, do you think? When we were children he used to pass me notes he had written before the banquet. He used to try and make me react, get me in trouble with Trian and father.”

“Rhein-”

“He tried so many times, and he barely ever succeeded, because I knew what I wanted. I wanted to get my commission. I wanted to earn the respects of the deshyrs, and I wanted to win the trust of my people and lead them. It’s all I ever wanted. It’s what I was made for, bred for, it’s what my mother died for. And now we’re all dead. All of us.”

Alistair’s arms were around her before she knew it, his hands in her hair at the small of her neck. She wondered what he would have made of her with the long braids she once sported, so heavy she could barely move her neck, of the necklaces that once adorned her with stones the size of her palm. She wondered if he would have given that girl a weed from the dirt on the surface.

“We’re not dead yet,” he said softly as he kissed the top of her head, so sincerely that he must have believed it. This life was a blessing for him, she realised. This life was his pride. They would try and make him King once they returned to the city, and she would have to protect him from that. He was too soft for these games. He was not a leader. He would never have what it took to be a leader.

“We’re not dead yet,” she repeated, looking up at him and letting him kiss her face with tenderness, trying to drown out the feeling that her ancestors were crying out in shame.


	17. “give me a minute or an hour” - Dungeons and Dragons, OCs

## “Give me a minute or an hour”

> _Dungeons and Dragons original characters_

“The door is closing! The door is _closing on us!_ ”

“Looks open to me.”

“It’s like… it’s invisible! I mean. It’s like. On another plane or something.”

“Great description chief.”

“Well sorry for not explaining our imminent death by suffocation or starvation better.”

Nimor tried in vain to push back against the edges of the door, knowing full well that it was beyond any of them in the astral ether. He turned back to Rowan, dark eyes blazing.

“Come on wizard boy. You’ve gotta have something you can do?”

Rowan’s eyes shut for a minute, and then he was on the other side of the door.

“What… what the fuck was that then?”

“Misty step.”

“There’s skellies out there!”

Rowan looked back at the slowly reforming mound of bones behind him. “…Ah.”

“…Ah? Bloody come back in there.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Brilliant. Anybody else got some good ideas?”

He looked around the room. The little halfling Gelrinn was, with a worrying amount of skill that suggests they had done this before, cutting along the edges of the huge portrait of the fancy dead dude hanging on the wall to remove it. Orris, still in wildshape on the ceiling as a spider was doing… well… nothing much. Ferrous tried to push his forged shape through the edges of existence. And Chad was taking a nap, right next to the skeleton that seemed to be wearing exactly the robes in the portrait.

Nimor shook his head. “… _Anybody?_ ”

“Wait. I know this fucker.”

Gelrinn had spoken up, holding the painting to their face like a comically large map. “He’s an old wizard. Loads of books about him in the libraries. He’s like, old old. Hundreds of years. Did some fucked up stuff that’s in the records. Was exploring eternal life.”

“Fantastic-”

“And was trying to become a Lich.”

“Fucking brilliant that. So it’s being stuck in here with a guy who is going to raise from the dead then is it? Rowan, come on man. You’ve got to have a plan.”

The response from the crack in the door was as deadpan as he expected.

“Oh, sure. No problem. Just give me a minute. Or an hour.”


	18. “you don’t see it?” - Pillars of Eternity, Aloth and Watcher

## “You don’t see it?”

> _Pillars of Eternity, Aloth and Watcher, spoilers for Pillars of Eternity first game. Death mention._

“You don’t see it? The light around that corpse. Purple. Pulsing.”

“I must sadly say I do not,” he replied, watching his companions eyes shine bright and wide. “I just see a poor departed soul.”

“But that’s just it,” she continued, moving towards the body as if it were a wild animal, “That’s exactly what it is. A soul departed from the body, but stuck here. It’s calling to me.”

This must be her, he realised with a knot in his stomach. There was no doubting it now. For better or for worse, he had found his mark.

“What will you do?” he asked her. “Can you do anything?”

“I think… I think I need to talk to it.”

“I see.”

He noticed her hesitate, shivering in the cold of the morning. He attempted to give her a supportive smile. “Don’t worry. I will be here if anything… happens.”

“Thank you, Aloth. You’re a good friend.”

He wished that were true.


	19. “I can’t do this anymore” - Dragon Age, Iron Bull/Dorian

## “I can’t do this anymore”

_Dragon Age, Adoribull, sexual references_

He said it every time.

Every time he would come to him too drunk, and every time he would send Dorian off to cool down for a few hours, sober up a little. Then every time, trying to pretend he hadn’t sobered up at all, he would come back again, exaggerating the sway in his gait like a proper little actor. Of course, real drunk people are trying to stay as sober-looking as possible, but he wasn’t about to undress too much of the poor lad. His body was enough, his behaviours could wait a while.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

And there it was again. He was pink around the ears as he made a very dramatic show of picking up his (frankly excessive amount of) clothing, fingers ever so slightly trembling as he worked on the (again, frankly excessive) clasps on the shoulder of his robe.

“Did you hear me, you oaf.”

“I did, Dorian,” he replied, making no effort to move from his bed, or cover himself for that matter. “And I respect whatever decision you make.”

“I mean it this time!”

“As I said. I respect whatever decision you make.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

Dorian had stopped in his tracks, the flush of unwarranted shame replaced by a flush of frustration. Perhaps anger.

He wasn’t about to rise to it.

“It means, Dorian,” he said as steadily as he could manage with the smell of him so close, eyes locked on him, “That I respect whatever decision you make. I respect your decision to leave this room with half your buckles on, never to return. I respect your choice to never return but pleasure yourself over it every night after. I respect your choice to keep coming, keep saying you’re not coming back, and coming and coming again. I also,” he added, not able to help himself, “respect your decision to come to be sober one day, and meet me wholly as the man you are, no qualifications, no judgement. I respect you. I respect your choices.”

Dorian chewed on his lower lip for just a moment, before remembering himself, pulling on his remaining boot half-heartedly, and stomping out of the room with all the subtlety of a dragon in heat.

Bull smiled to himself. For all Dorian’s bluster, he was doing very little to keep any secrets. He would be back.


	20. “did I ask?” - Dragon Age, Iron Bull/Dorian

## “Did I ask?”

> _Dragon Age, Adoribull (again)_

“You can’t come with me to Tevinter, you know.”

“Did I ask, _Kadan?”_

Dorian had packed and repacked his books three times, arguing with his servant about the proper order for best transportation throughout. Finally he had got what he wanted, which meant no more distractions, no more silly outputs for his frustrations.

“So that’s it, then?”

Bull cocked his head at him. “What’s _it?”_

“We’re done, I presume. It was a good run, I suppose. About two years longer than I thought it would be.”

“Dorian, You’re jumping to conclusions. Again.”

“Not again! I mean… I’m _not_. I know you, Bull. Let’s not pretend this is going to be easy.”

“No. But easy isn’t the only reason to do things. Quite honestly, things that are easy are boring.”

“Things can get boring very easily too. Especially long nights appart from each other. Don’t think I don’t know your reputation. I remember it well.”

“Dorian, that hardly seems fair.”

“No? doesn’t it?”

“And your reputation? Is that not up for discussion?”

“… That’s different,” he huffed, unpacking the books for the forth time.

“Your reputation will keep me from Tevinter. Your safety as well, and that is fine for me. We will find a way.”

“But do you want to- _kaffas_! The idiot has creased this page! Why is it impossible to get decent staff these days?”

“Dorian. Sit down.”

Bull started to regret the slight harshness in his voice, but sometimes Dorian… well, he just needed somebody to be direct when he was getting in his head too much. In the early days, it would have been met with indignation, fury, acceptance, and then a good sulk. But they were far beyond early days now, and he sat back down next to him with barely a flush of colour on his face.

“I won’t let you push me away, Kadan. Not unless that’s what you really want.”

“You know it’s not.” All the strength in his voice had gone. “I just don’t see what else we can do.”

“Well, we can just try.” Bull shrugged. “That’s enough for me. We try. And if you find somebody you want to fuck, that’s fine. And if you fall in love with somebody else-”

“- Bull - “

“Then we talk about that too.”

“Well, what about if you fall in love with somebody else?”

“Hey, you’ve got the best of Tevinter high society to choose from. I’ve got the conversational excellence of Grim.”

That made him laugh at least. He pulled him in to rest his head in the crook of his neck, kissing his crown.

“We will work it out, because I love you, Kadan.”


	21. “this, this makes it all worth it” - Mass Effect 3

## “This, this makes it all worth it”

> _Mass Effect_

“Aren’t you tired, Shepard?”

She meant it in earnest. Of course she did. Everything Liara said was earnest - or at least, everything Liara said to _her_ was. She needed to remember that the sweet academic was all grown up these days. They had all changed. It was inevitable.

“Am I getting greys?”

“… Greys? Your skin tone seems much the same. Paler, maybe-”

“It’s an expression. Kind of. When we get stressed, human hair tends to go grey. Or just fall out.”

“Goodness.”

“I think I’d rock it.”

The party was settling into its twilight. The buzz of conversation was becoming a light murmur as people got more drunk, more comfortable on the sofa, more comfortable with each other. It was strange to see some of them forming new friendships, to realise that outside of their station they hadn’t had a chance to just be with each other. 

“I hope I didn’t cause offense,” Liara continued, her thumb tracing the edge of her glass of wine. “It was not my intention.”

“I know, don’t worry.”

“You just seem… quieter, that’s all.”

“I’m just enjoying this. All of this.”

She looked over to Tali and Garrus on the couch together, legs touching ever so slightly. To Ashley and James in the corner. Joker and Edi. Her eyes passed over to Javik, wondering what he was thinking, before feeling a thud in her stomach. Thane would have loved to have been watching all of this with her.

“This,”she continued. taking a long sip from her glass. “This makes it all worth it. All of it. Promise me you’ll make more memories like this Liara.”

“I hope we will have plenty more together, Shepard.”

“Now that’s something worth raising a glass to.”


	22. “and neither should you” - Divinity Original Sin 2, Fane/F!Godwoken

## “And neither should you”

Divinity Original Sin 2, Fane/Godwoken

“You shouldn’t think you know what it means to be a dwarf just because you wear the face of one, you know.”

The trickery of it all was fascinating, she would admit to that. And useful too, when needing to speak to the Elf folk that evaded her persuasions, or to trick a stupid lizard into being overly candid. The trickery was also very subject to the whims of its master, who right now was walking with a very exaggerated strut next to her.

“Why, I try to learn all I can from watching you.”

“Well, you don’t watch closely enough evidently. I don’t strut like that.”

“I’m sure you would if you cut a more masculine gait. Your waist is smaller. You lack certain… appendages.”

“Does the mask see to that as well?”

“That’s a very forward question.”

“I’ve already fucked you once, Fane. I don’t think we’re quite at the stage of curtseys and formalities.”

“A scholar and a soldier through and through I see. I viewed it as more of an _experiment_ than an excitement.”

“So you keep reminding me.”

They pressed further into the caverns, wondering if any of the remaining dwarves would be in their senses. It wasn’t looking good for any of them, but she knew she had to try. If nothing else it might guarantee the safety of their other lost companions.

“I must say, I expected more from your ilk than a dank cave with criminals and halfwits. You speak of your people with an eloquence I am not convinced they earn from the stench of this place.”

She thought of her pledge to the Queen, of her argument with Beast on the beach of Fort Joy. She thought of the mantle of her mother, handed down through the generations.

“You shouldn’t make generalisations of a whole people, Fane.”

“And neither should you,” he replied curtly, walking ahead of her. “It’s most unbecoming. Unlike my walk.”


	23. “do we have to?” - Divinity Original Sin 2, Lohse and F!Godwoken

## “Do we have to?”

> _Divinity Original Sin 2, Lohse and Godwoken OC_

She’d watched her get the wrong combination for three days. 

Pouring over journals, memories, getting Fane to read all the books in his pack and Ifan to scan every inch for clues. Hafaren was patient enough, but even her patience was wearing thin.

And then all of a sudden, quite without ceremony, the door was open. The path to divinity on the other side of the door. And a creeping horror reaching over all of them at what that could mean.

Hafaren had spoken to the others first. Fane took the longest of course. Both of them were so wordy Lohse was surprised the sun hadn’t set on them in the time it took. In the end there was a gentle hand on bone that settled it. If there had been a face to form an expression, she thought Fane must have looked devastated. Resigned. Ifan on the other hand took almost no words at all. There was a camaraderie between them that was evident to any that could see them. An understanding. Hafaren was the captain, and that was that.

And then it came to her.

She noticed there was less certainty when she approached. Hafaren had always known how to lead through relating to people. Ifan and Fane were known to her, easy for her to put into neat little boxes and keep close. She was not.

“I need to speak to you, Lohse.”

“I know. But you can save it. I need to get this creature out of me. I need to be divine. It’s that simple.”

“I’ve always been there for you Lohse, and I always will. You have to trust me. When I am divine, I won’t abandon you. I can’t.”

She could feel the gnawing at the corners of her soul. Well, it had been gnawing, now it was outright shredding as her friend was pulling at her very being. She didn’t know if she truly believed those words, but she believed them more than her own desires. Were they even hers anymore? Was it her or the demon that wanted divinity? Was it her or the demon that had seen Hafaren watching over her, stroking away the damp hair from her forehead as the sweats came in the night. Was any of it real, the friendship, the desires, any of it? And would she really remember her with divinity in her lap?

“I suppose we best continue on,” Hafaren finally continued, brushing herself off as she stood.

“Do we have to?”

She laughed. “Part of me wishes we didn’t. I hope you’ll be at my side Lohse. I’ll save you. I always promised I would. But I won’t be able to unless you let me do this.” 


	24. “are you kidding me?” Mass Effect/Andromeda, Shepard and Miranda

## “Are you kidding me?”

> _Mass Effect/Mass effect Andromeda_

“He’s taking his kids? Are you kidding me?”

The news spread over the screens in Miranda’s office. Mo saw a face she recognised across the core team.

“I know some of these people.”

“Some of them are professionals. Some of them are _tagalongs_.”

Miranda paused the current news cycle and honed in on a face. “See this woman? This is a professional. Valkyrie programme, Asari trained, biotic prodigy. A soldier of pedigree. And then you have this.”

She flicked to another profile, one that Mo could place immediately.

“This is a tagalong. A waste of space.”

“Hey, I’m sure the new world order will need party planners as much as this one does.”

“Does this one really need that?”

Mo looked again at the face. She’d cut her hair short, probably to look more serious, but there was no mistaking socialite and tech wizard Paris Ryder. The last time she’d seen her was at a distance before any of this crap had flared up, just after she’d achieved her Spectre status - Paris had convinced the alliance to throw a huge fundraising party in honour of it, though she couldn’t for the life of her remember exactly what the money was supposed to do, or where it was going. Perhaps she was doing it to prove something to her father.

Miranda kept the cycle going. Mo recognised another face.

“So he’s taking both kids. Scott always seemed like a good kid. Diligent.”

“He’s fine. But we’re talking about the great hope for humanity here.”

“There’s more to humanity than just how well they can shoot biotics, Miranda. If it were just about sending the best they’d just populate the whole thing with clones of you.”

“That’s not funny, Shepard.”

“I know. Sorry. That was… You get what I mean though. We need all sorts. Even… whatever this is.”

“Let’s agree to disagree.”


	25. “sometimes you can even see” - Dragon Age, Lavellan and Blackwall

## “Sometimes you can even see”

> _Dragon Age, Lavellan and Blackwall_

“It’s peaceful, I’ll give you that.”

There was a fine mist of rain that seemed ever present on this coastline. The threat of rain more than the reality of it. A heaviness in the air that felt distinctly _Ferelden_ to her. It was so strange that only a few miles across the sea the heat would stick to your skin. The world had become so much smaller to all of them in the past months.

Blackwall was combing over the last few artefacts they had found, and she wasn’t keen to rush him. There was something interesting about how he took his time over this one, combing over each bottle, each shred of sodden paper, each tiny piece of what was left here.

“Remote, yes. Though not always peaceful as we’ve seen. A good stretch of land though. Sometimes you can even see the Gallows of Kirkwall, I’ve been told,” He replied, pocketing something into his pack as he stood. “If the day is clear enough.”

“You’d have to wait many days for that, I think.”

“It wouldn’t be Ferelden without rain.”

“Come now. They need at least a few days of sun to dry it all up to get the smell baked in.”

He laughed at that, a big throaty laugh that still caught her off guard. He was more careful than others gave him credit for, and moments where he let go of that care it set her on an edge. Humans are only careful when they know they have to keep control, and they only know they do when they’ve previously lost it completely. 

“You’re from the East March, am I right? Ostwick?”

“Markham,” he replied with a hint of surprise. I don’t talk about it, I’m surprised you knew.”

“A guess only. There’s something that always gives away a Marcher, I find. A shared tongue sliced through different voices, that’s what my old Keeper used to call it. You’d hear it in the flat ears that would come to try their hand at our life. Different affectations of speech, but the same way of speaking underneath. You don’t get that in Ferelden, or Orlais.”

“That you certainly do not. I like that. The same way of speaking.”

A brief silence followed as both their eyes settled on the horizon, seeing if they could spy even a glimpse of the land beyond. Today was heavy clouds however, and he quickly gave up, clearing his throat and facing her with a degree of formality she was not expecting.

“I wanted to thank you for indulging me in this. I know there are other things that take your time. I am grateful you allowed this.”

“Now that’s not a Marcher tongue,” she replied, uncorking her waterskin and taking a long swig as she settled to the ground looking over the raging seas, desperate to escape the rigidity of that moment. “That must have been a commander taught you to say thank you with so many words. Orlesian?”

He laughed back, allowing himself to relax and sit a short distance away from her. “Orlesian, perhaps. Not a commander as such. Another life.”

“I have heard Warden’s often carry other lives they keep buried. I won’t press you on it.”

“I am… _thanks_.”

“Now that’s better. I’d like us to be plain with each other where we can. It’s exhausting to learn all these rules. All these ways of being. Since there are none of my people close by, I would appreciate if countrymen could indulge me.”

“It’s rare for a Dalish to call humans countrymen.”

“For as long as I am a prisoner, I am no Dalish.”

Saying that out loud felt wrong, even if she believed it to be true. The younger of her clan believed they carried their blood wherever they ventured, however they engaged with the world beyond the aravels, but to her to be Dalish was a promise, and one she could not fulfil in the captivity of a castle at the mercy of humans.

She saw his eyes darken in thought momentarily, before he washed it away with a weak smile. “Well. I hope one day you feel like you are no longer a prisoner. I hope you can see that you are a trusted leader. A valued friend.”

She forced a smile back, and turned her eyes back to the torrents ahead.


	26. “how about you trust me for once?” - Dragon Age, Loghain and Wynne

## “How about you trust me for once?”

> _Dragon Age, Loghain Mac Tir & Wynne_

“The mages will be best used as a support team. Keep them away from the front line, let them tend to the wounded. You have enough strong fighters with your pact with Orzammar, let them take the brunt.”

“I disagree. The mages can do a lot for you in the fray. I’ve trained many of them. They are competent, strong fighters and can protect you best at your side with wards and deflective magic.”

“It’s suicide for them. Do you really care so little for your own people?”

For a moment he read the flush on the older woman’s face as embarrassment, but it was quickly obvious it was rage.

“I would not be so quick to call it such a thing. Especially if I had made the choices you so recently have.”

“Enough,” came the response from the Warden. She was exhausted, that much was obvious. A child forced into a responsibility beyond her years. He thought of Anora at a similar age, still reading fairy stories with her friends and gossiping over boys.

“I’ll take my leave and think on it. Thank you both for your wisdom again. I appreciate it.”

As they watched the warden leave, Loghain turned to his latest adversary.

“How about you trust me for once, Wynne? There are few things I know like a battlefield. The warden knows this. It’s why she brought me here.”

“Which is precisely why I cannot. A year may be a long time when you are young, but it’s a whisper at our age, and you know it. Whatever you may have inspired in her to save your life, whatever you may think you can bring to this, you are still the man who caused the death of hundreds. And for what?”

“For a chance to fight again. Which we now have.”

“Don’t turn her mercy into your victory. You made your choices. You did what you did and let other’s pay the price for it.”

He let the silence sit between them for a while, looking over the map on the table and thinking back to that first time he had met the then newest Warden, around a similar table, over a similar mess of maps and minds. He thought to how different she looked then. Thinner, smaller somehow. Wynne was right. A year in the life of a child is one thing. A year to them…

“Did you lose anybody you knew?” he asked softly, his eyes settling over the palace.

“A few. All younger than I. Mages with great potential.”

“I… I’m sorry for the loss of them. I know it might not mean much to hear it.”

“It does and doesn’t,” she conceded, sitting herself down in a nearby chair. “You have your reasons, they don’t change what happened. You know as well as I that we have to live with all of our choices, no matter how we may justify them.”

He began to roll up the map. “On that we can agree.”


	27. “give me that” - Pillars of Eternity, Aloth & Hiravias

## “Give me that”

> _Pillars of Eternity, Aloth and Hiravias_

“Give me that! You’re getting… well God’s only knows what you’re getting on it.”

Hiravias handed him back his favourite Grimoire, along with what seemed like the entirety of the muck on his hands.

“Don’t know what you’re being so precious about. You can still read it fine.”

“Being able to read it will be difficult if I can’t bear to touch it.”

He gently tried to get the worst clumps of mossy sludge off of the corner with the edge of his robe, which itself he realised had seen better days. Coming to Eir Glanfath had been… an experience, for certain. All he could dream about was a hot tin bath in a room with floorboards.

“The pursuit of knowledge was never easy. Or clean.” Hiravias took point ahead, calling back behind him. “You’ll need to get your hands dirty if you want to truly learn the best of life!”

Aloth grimaced as he pushed his boots through thick stinking mud to catch up. Sadly, he wasn’t wrong.


	28. “do I have to do everything here?” - Original Fic

## “do I have to do everything here?”

> _Original fic I think? I feel like this was influenced by something but I can’t think what_

“This is ridiculous. Can’t you do anything for yourselves? I have to do everything around here!”

She was in a state of white hot anger, that much was obvious. She was past the red, and when she was this far gone the rest of them were sure to get it in the neck. There was nothing else for it. He would have to seduce her. Purely for scientific, behavioural, social reasons of course. They couldn’t have her behaving like this for any long period of time. It was uncalled for. It was un-livable with. He was merely doing the team a favour, one that he would call back when the time was due.

He almost lost his nerve when he approached her. Great swathes of dark cloudy magic surrounded her body, giving her a heft that almost threatened to knock him off his feet before he even reached her. He’d never seen a creature like her before, a being so consumed by magic that the slightest spark in their mood, the merest idea of a notion of discomfort, could wipe out a small village with the residual power. A woman whose magic was so wild it was untamable.

He liked the challenge of it, he supposed. The idea of taming the un-tameable. Of rather the fantasy of it, he was not quite so vain to think that it was anything other than a momentary reprieve. And yet, the fantasy of it felt real enough, and he hadn’t failed in it yet.

He smiled at her, broad and crooked, with a swift and subtle lick of his lips. “I’m sure I can be of service to help you, my lady,” he purred, dropping to his knee and looking up through his lashes. “I am your humble servant.

He barely had time to register the mistake he had made before he was engulfed in flame. 


	29. “back up!” - Mass Effect, Shepard/Javik

## “Back up!”

> _Mass Effect, Shavik_

“Move, Shepard. I have the shot.”

“We’re not shooting yet,” she replied. He was so close she could feel the breath steady from his nostrils.

He grunted. “I have. The Shot.”

“And I am your commander.”

“You are commander to these others. We are not in a chain of command.”

“I beg to differ. My ship, my rules.”

“We are not on your… ship. If such a craft deserves such a lofty title.”

She turned to him. His face, as always, was completely unreadable to her. She often wondered if that was a trait of the Protheans or just of him; whether a species that could reach each other’s very thoughts needed something as primitive as expressions or if he was just particularly good at hiding them from her.

“You live on my ship. I am in command. If you take that shot, there is another sniper ready on the shipping containers at my seven o’clock. I’m sure he has the shot too, and it’s not on me. It’s on you.”

He blinked each of his eyelids, still unmoving, his breath still loud in her ears. She took a single step towards his face.

“Back. Up.”

She swore the scent of him changed in that moment, a sweeter, richer tone to him as his long finger lost grip on the trigger. He did not lower his gun, but she knew he would not show that kind of obvious sign of submission to the others.

His eyes met hers, and she felt a flush of something settle on her before she turned away.

“Let’s move.”


	30. “just say it” - Dragon Age, Aeducan(/Alistair) and Carver Hawke

## “Just say it”

> _Dragon Age, Warden Aeducan & Warden Carver, TW Death Mention_

The journey to Weisshaupt was always marked with an equal balance of tedium and tempest, and this journey was no exception. She had thought she would make it with the mercenary escorts she had hired out of Perendale, but despite the gold she had spent on them one perished while on watch, the other from heat-sickness, and she had been forced to make a secure camp and wait for the inevitable patrols to come.

She knew the routes by now from the many, many documents that were sent for her perusal. She knew that command would bring paperwork, but the Wardens were excessive in her eyes for what was supposed to be a secretive order. Surely all it would take was one dissident to leak the ciphers and they would be exposed? She recalled the detailed secret languages that existed back in Orzammar, the ever-changing methods of sending communications far into the deep roads. Back then she had taken so much for granted in her life; how she would take command, how she would rise up the ranks, how she would prove herself to those that doubted her and take the crown. It all seemed so inevitable. Now, with a split in the sky and King Harrowmont closing the doors of Orzammar even to her, nothing seemed certain. Even Gorim had left after a blazing fight, choosing to return to the city while he still could. Nothing could be certain anymore.

Except that while Wardens gather in Weisshaupt, there would be patrols from Weisshaupt.

She could see them coming over the horizon, a small group, maybe six or seven of them. Her spyglass could just catch them, faces wrapped in protective cloth to shield them from the sandy winds. She raised her banner and waited.

The group that found her was young, all of them, some of them in mis-matched armour that suggested new recruits. The leader took his helmet off first, shaking out his hair and smiling at her. It took her a moment, but she knew that face.

“Warden Carver Hawke, yes? I remember you from the Free Marches. You toured with my husband.”

“Warden-Commander Aeduan! We were not expecting you to return so soon.”

“I have findings I need to share with the First Commander, but it’s been a difficult journey.”

“The winds are up, but we will get you there safely. You have my word.”

His men swarmed in, helping to grab what was left of her provisions and pack up the makeshift shelter she had made. Then she noticed it. The young recruits were looking nervously to their leader, a few of them softly speaking out of her earshot. Carver’s cool eyes didn’t fall from her, and it was painted all over his face. She knew this silence. She knew what it meant.

“There’s news, isn’t there? From Orlais.”

“I can’t…It wouldn’t be right for it to come from me, Warden-Commander.”

“Just say it, Carver. You can’t make me wait. That’s an order.”

He paused for just a moment, before carefully putting down his pack. He looked back at her when he was done, his voice strong in his duty.

“I regret to inform you that Senior Warden Alistair did not return from his mission. Reports state that he sacrificed himself to allow for the survival of his fellow travellers, including the Inquisitor of the Inquisition. I’m sorry to be the bearer of this news, Warden-Commander. I’m sure the First Commander would have preferred to deliver it in person.”

She expected to feel something hit her heart, like she had when she had been exiled, like she had felt when she saw Trian’s body. She expected the urge to cry, to wail, to shake him or drop to the floor in agonies. She expected anything except the coldness that swept over her, the absence of any desire at all.

“I see. There’s no body?”

“We have no way to confirm-”

“He’s just…. gone then?”

“I’m sorry, Warden-Commander.”

“You needn’t be sorry, Carver. Thank you for fulfilling your duty. We should go if we want to reach the fortress in the light.”

“Yes, Warden-Commander.”

The silence that followed echoed around her skull, forming a harmony with the feint song that still haunted her as they packed up and started the trek to the fortress. She expected to have the urge to cry, to wail, to shake them or drop to the floor, but instead she felt the pang of guilt in the pit of her stomach. How many years had it been since they had spent more than a few nights together? How many times had she left his letters unanswered until he had sent another? How many times had she suppressed rumours, run back to Orzammar, how many nights had she spent hundreds of miles away with Gorim at her side, not him? How many times had she secretly wished to hear rumours about him, that he had found comfort with another woman, so that she could claim some sort of justification, that their marriage was over, that it had all run its course, only to be reunited with him and feel twenty again. Be kissed by him again, held close, be told that she was the best thing that ever happened to him.

She wondered if he would have been a happy king. Whether Anora would have been a good wife to him. She wondered if he would have been safe there, and whether a woman who truly loved him wouldn’t have given him up, let him fulfil his birthright? Perhaps he would have had children with her. Perhaps he would have built a life.

The thoughts swirled in her mind for miles, until finally they reached the great gates of Weisshaupt. She remembered first coming here with Alistair, maybe two, three years after the blight? Before she returned to Orzammar and turned her hand to the politics there. The excitement on his face was etched into memory. Neither of them had prepared properly for the sands, her face a bright pink, his etched with dark patches of sand scorched heat, the particles stuck to his eyelashes. He looked up to the tallest towers and told her he was finally coming home.

As they entered, she noticed more faces.

“What remains of the Orlesian Wardens, ma’am,” Carver offered, taking the wraps off his face as the recruits took her belongings to her quarters. “The Inquisition sent the remaining Orlesian wardens back here in exile. She promises one of her best warriors as a recruit, but I hardly think it’s a fair trade. Not that it’s my place to think of such things. The First Warden will no doubt have need of your council soon.”

They started their ascent to the tower, eyes on her as they went. There were rumours of dissent around her decision to pursue her mission, her reluctance to respond to the Orlesian crisis with a greater force in Ferelden. As always, it was easy to criticise leadership from the bottom up. Nevertheless, she was sure her next deployment would be to Amaranthine, and to beg at the court of Anora. Politics, now that was something she could do with ease. 

She looked over to Carver. She had remembered a cocksure young man from their brief meeting, seemingly so much younger than them, but surely not more than a few years? Still there was an innocence to him that was now replaced with a steeliness. She wondered if she was the same. She wondered how Alistair kept the spark in him all those years.

Finally, they arrived at the door of her rooms, Carver pushing on the door which creaked loudly as it opened. A film of dust had settled on the simple bed and desk, her papers unmoved for all these years, the ink dry in the well. He settled her largest pack on the floor gently, an awkward silence filling the room that she felt compelled to fill.

“Did you… did you get to see your sister at least? Did she return with them?”

He could not help but break into a soft smile. “Yes. Yes I did. She stayed almost a month with us.”

“That’s good. You were close to your family?”

“It’s… It’s complicated, I would say. But she is my only surviving relative and it was good to spent time with her.”

“I quite understand. And I’m glad. I’m glad you had that time. Anders wrote to me when he was first in Kirkwall speaking of her kindness. It’s funny how things turn out.”

She remembered hearing of his death too. The letter was most probably still on that desk under others. No details. No fanfare. No body returned either. They mourned him silently. They always had to mourn the lost silently.

“She will be in touch again,’ Carver offered. It was no secret that he had little he wished to say on Anders, and she respected why. “She always is, in time.”

“I hope so,” she said softly, smiling to him as best she could. “And in the meanwhile, you must keep yourself safe. We need people like you.”

He put down the last of her things gently by the desk and went to leave, turning by the door before closing it.

“Alistair was a good man, ma’am. A great man. He will be sorely missed.”

She nodded back weakly as he left. He would, by many. He would by her. In all the uncertainty, in all the pain and loss, she knew that her husband loved her and would be there for her. Alistair was gone, and nothing could be certain anymore. 

The room was quiet. Her mind was a cacophony. The sheets still smelled of him.


	31. “I trust you” - Pillars of Eternity, Aloth/Watcher

## “I trust you”

> _Pillars of Eternity, Aloth/Watcher_

It was winter when he finally decided to go the first time.

He had contented himself for many moons with books they had salvaged, papers, scraps, anything that had even the smallest mention of the Leaden Key. He had stayed up all night in the library pouring over his books, his notes, mumbling to himself as he read. Often she would find him asleep, the candle burned to nothingness, until one day she reminded him that to study something was not the same as practicing it.

“You use practical magic, Aloth,” she had told him. “You understand this.”

“I know. I just… I want to be sure I am prepared.”

“You cannot be prepared for what is unknown. Trust me.”

“I do trust you. I’m just amazed that you trust me with something so… so…”

“I trust you, Aloth. I always have.”

“Even when perhaps you shouldn’t have,” he laughed. A warmth spread between them then, a closeness that she had not even noticed until that moment. He was a treasured friend.

And now, it was winter - a very different winter than the one they had experienced in Caed Nua, and he was preparing to leave again.

If anything it was more important this time. The Leaden Key had the potential to unite all of the known world in the New Truth, and it needed leadership, direction, a messenger for the new word. If anything he knew more than then, his travels over the past years turning him from a cautious, anxious muddling man to something more secure, something informed and ready. If anything, it should have been more obvious that it was time to part.

And yet so much that had been then was not the case now, and so much more filled their minds than just what their duty demanded. As they lay together on the bed of her cabin, the sea gently rocking them as she ran her fingers through his hair, she wondered how they would ever be able to part again.

“I don’t think I’m ready for this.”

His voice was smaller now than it had ever been, his face pressed into her body, arms wrapped tightly around her. She breathed with him, planting a soft kiss on the top of his head.

“I know, aimoro. But-”

“I know. There is more than just us.”

“We have duties.”

“I know.”

“But not until the morning.”

She tilted his face up to kiss him, her lips met with the salty taste of tears. As she pulled back, she noticed his face was puffy and red from crying.

“Until the morning, you are mine and I am yours,” she continued, kissing each eye softly. “Tomorrow is tomorrow. We can trust those versions of us to do the right thing. Until then, we are just two lovers in bed. Nothing more.”

“I love you so very much.”

“I know,” she replied, brushing the hair from his damp face. “And no matter what happens, I love you too.”


End file.
